Pelasgia
Established Nation
Southern Kintu Kingdom, Arktos Island, Pelasgian Far Southern Territories
Sizwe was a simple, hardworking man from the Southern Kintu Kingdom. His wife had passed away from an epidemic that had gripped the Far South nearly ten years ago, leaving him to struggle with the task of raising their seven children on his farm. His eldest daughter and one of his sons would have suffered the same fate, were it not for a doctor who had been sent to the area by the Pelasgian Southern Himyari Company, as part of its programme to increase the public health the local indigenous population’s areas of habitation following the Treaty of Fort Antipas. It was following that same Treaty that Sizwe had made a decision that had changed his life forever. Like many others in the northern frontier farmlands of the Kingdom, he had taken out a loan to modernise production and build a better, more modern home for himself and his family. If all went well, he would work with the other farmers in a cooperative to multiply production, and leave a sturdy modern structure to his eldest son to call a home. A few bad crops, however, had given the opposite result: he had consistently failed to make payments, and the bank had pressed to acquire the only asset it had to collect on: his land.
Leaning over a small wooden table inside his half-finished new house, Sizwe listened in horror as an officer of the Imperial Far Southern Constabulary read out a judgment:
Imperial Himyari Bank of Commerce v. Sizwe Tutu | No. 132/2020
PELASGIAN EMPIRE
FAR SOUTHERN TERRITORIES
NEOLCIS COLONY
PORT NEOLCUS DISTRICT
No. 132/2020 (Civil)
Date: 27 January 2020
[…]
Given the defendant’s failure to file an answer to the plaintiff’s demands, the court hereby grants the plaintiff’s motion for default judgment against the defendant, as per art. 242 of the Code of Civ. Proc. as applied to the Neolcis Colony by virtue of Special Law 57/2018. […]
For the reasons outlined above, the court orders that the hypothecated land of the defendant be transferred to the plaintiff’s ownership immediately as restitution for the defendant’s failure to fulfill his contractual obligation to the plaintiff. […]
The Constable, dressed in the olive-green fatigues of the IFSC seemed imposing, flanked by a squad of his colleagues. Their tone too, though somewhat sympathetic, was one of clear apprehension. Such seizures had become rather common in the area following the bad crop yields that had seen many a local farmer default on his loans. The Pelasgian banks, like the Imperial Himyari Bank of Commerce, had been all too glad to see this take place; rather than gaining a small amount of interest, limited by law to 9% in the Far South to avoid predatory lending against the native population, the banks stood to take ownership of a large part of the lands reserved to the natives, lawfully and with the approval of the Kingdoms’ own laws (which had agreed to allow such contracts under Pelasgian law).
For his part, Sizwe had no intention of causing trouble, and had told his neighbours as much; he had a family to raise, and he would be of no use to them dead, with or without their farmland. He planned to try and head to the town from where his deceased wife’s family came, to try and live with them there for a while. Sizwe did not understand much of the legalese gibberish the Pelasgian read out, even with the aid of the translator, but he did understand that his land was involved and probably not in a good way.
“What will become of my land?” he asked the constable, an olive-skinned man from northwestern Pelasgia.
“The Bank will take over it to cover your debts,” the Pelasgian replied, “and probably sell it to the PSHC, who’ll use it for settlement.”
Sizwe knew this tale all too well; the banks would take over the hypothecated lands and then resell them to the Pelasgian Southrn Himyari Company for a good profit. Then, the PSHC would settled its lands with registered settlers and, as per the Treaty of Fort Antipas, the land would pass from the Kingdom to the closest Colony (in this case Neolcis). Truth be told, it was not just the Kintu and Kéké that this was happening to; unregistered settlers, like a nearby family of Burgundian refugees, had seen similar treatment from the PSHC and IHBC. One could even suspect that the two were acting in concert, to try and settle the land with their own registered settlers. Nobody could prove such a thing, though it would certainly serve the Pelasgians’ interests well, and the Kingdoms’ leadership would not do anything, as long as the Pelasgians paid them well and delivered on their other promises. This was part of the modernisation clauses the natives had asked for themselves, after all. Whether others would mimic Sizwe's patience was a whole other question.
Sizwe was a simple, hardworking man from the Southern Kintu Kingdom. His wife had passed away from an epidemic that had gripped the Far South nearly ten years ago, leaving him to struggle with the task of raising their seven children on his farm. His eldest daughter and one of his sons would have suffered the same fate, were it not for a doctor who had been sent to the area by the Pelasgian Southern Himyari Company, as part of its programme to increase the public health the local indigenous population’s areas of habitation following the Treaty of Fort Antipas. It was following that same Treaty that Sizwe had made a decision that had changed his life forever. Like many others in the northern frontier farmlands of the Kingdom, he had taken out a loan to modernise production and build a better, more modern home for himself and his family. If all went well, he would work with the other farmers in a cooperative to multiply production, and leave a sturdy modern structure to his eldest son to call a home. A few bad crops, however, had given the opposite result: he had consistently failed to make payments, and the bank had pressed to acquire the only asset it had to collect on: his land.
Leaning over a small wooden table inside his half-finished new house, Sizwe listened in horror as an officer of the Imperial Far Southern Constabulary read out a judgment:
Imperial Himyari Bank of Commerce v. Sizwe Tutu | No. 132/2020
NEOLCIS COURT OF FIRST INSTANCE
CIVIL DIVISION
CIVIL DIVISION
PELASGIAN EMPIRE
FAR SOUTHERN TERRITORIES
NEOLCIS COLONY
PORT NEOLCUS DISTRICT
No. 132/2020 (Civil)
Date: 27 January 2020
[…]
Given the defendant’s failure to file an answer to the plaintiff’s demands, the court hereby grants the plaintiff’s motion for default judgment against the defendant, as per art. 242 of the Code of Civ. Proc. as applied to the Neolcis Colony by virtue of Special Law 57/2018. […]
For the reasons outlined above, the court orders that the hypothecated land of the defendant be transferred to the plaintiff’s ownership immediately as restitution for the defendant’s failure to fulfill his contractual obligation to the plaintiff. […]
The Constable, dressed in the olive-green fatigues of the IFSC seemed imposing, flanked by a squad of his colleagues. Their tone too, though somewhat sympathetic, was one of clear apprehension. Such seizures had become rather common in the area following the bad crop yields that had seen many a local farmer default on his loans. The Pelasgian banks, like the Imperial Himyari Bank of Commerce, had been all too glad to see this take place; rather than gaining a small amount of interest, limited by law to 9% in the Far South to avoid predatory lending against the native population, the banks stood to take ownership of a large part of the lands reserved to the natives, lawfully and with the approval of the Kingdoms’ own laws (which had agreed to allow such contracts under Pelasgian law).
For his part, Sizwe had no intention of causing trouble, and had told his neighbours as much; he had a family to raise, and he would be of no use to them dead, with or without their farmland. He planned to try and head to the town from where his deceased wife’s family came, to try and live with them there for a while. Sizwe did not understand much of the legalese gibberish the Pelasgian read out, even with the aid of the translator, but he did understand that his land was involved and probably not in a good way.
“What will become of my land?” he asked the constable, an olive-skinned man from northwestern Pelasgia.
“The Bank will take over it to cover your debts,” the Pelasgian replied, “and probably sell it to the PSHC, who’ll use it for settlement.”
Sizwe knew this tale all too well; the banks would take over the hypothecated lands and then resell them to the Pelasgian Southrn Himyari Company for a good profit. Then, the PSHC would settled its lands with registered settlers and, as per the Treaty of Fort Antipas, the land would pass from the Kingdom to the closest Colony (in this case Neolcis). Truth be told, it was not just the Kintu and Kéké that this was happening to; unregistered settlers, like a nearby family of Burgundian refugees, had seen similar treatment from the PSHC and IHBC. One could even suspect that the two were acting in concert, to try and settle the land with their own registered settlers. Nobody could prove such a thing, though it would certainly serve the Pelasgians’ interests well, and the Kingdoms’ leadership would not do anything, as long as the Pelasgians paid them well and delivered on their other promises. This was part of the modernisation clauses the natives had asked for themselves, after all. Whether others would mimic Sizwe's patience was a whole other question.
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